Redemption on this road, misty fog is watering our clothes.
Step by step we walk this black death road, by our self, on our own, all alone.
Quicker then falling asleep, what is more beautiful than sleep?
Upon us without warning it creeps, to deep.
Our heart stops and our blood slow, our throat sighs and our dreams flow.
Thus, we will understand a feeling that most will never know.
To raze this house and tear, without this life would any shed a tear.
How long will we hide in the rubble? Shadow in shadow, shade for shade trade, in fear.
How long will lies last? Till our life love’s breath crumble.
To find a balm of woe, the balm of friendship and love in troubled times.
Such a happy thing thou haste given us. Therefore, we wish to give thee in return, with this letter are bound two things.
The first thereof is a vile of a great potion, for once tis drunk if the drinker is inflected with Donec Diligunt Mortem syndrome, t’will give unto them the power to communicate to us once every twenty-four hours. The second item is a feather from mine own wing, thou must devour it for the potion to work. Tis called the prayer spell for in order for it to work thou will have to speak an incantation liken unto a prayer. Please do this so we may hear thy voice at 5:30 A.M.
Yours: Luna
North-West border of Eq. guard post No. 12, high tower of the main barracks Southeast corner.
After coughing at the complete and utter foul tasting potion and blue feather, Favonian looked up at the source of his pain, the moon. It is worth it. He said to himself. She is worth it.
He got down on his knees and lifted his head up to the sky. Gazing at the stars he hoped this would work, he began.
“Luna, oh Luna. Come to me this night, so that I may hold thy voice tight.” He hoped that would be enough, after nothing happened he took a breath to start once again. Before he could a voice he knew all too well rung in his head.
“Favonian?” he heard. The sound of it sent pricks down his spine as he let out a long breath.
“Princes!” he spoke aloud.
“Not out in the open favon tis vary loud when thou do this.” She told.
“Forgiveness is required it seems, alas we just started, damn” he laughed.
“Forgiveness is something thou is always doing it seems.” She came back. To which they both laughed.
They spoke on many things, they philosophized on books, they spoke of there favorite music, which turned into a friendly argument on who was better, Beethoofen or Mainzart. They told stories of their time apart, and they even told on how much they mean to each other. Talking about love and compassion, and how when he would be able to come back to Canterlot, so that they can spend an evening together somewhere special.
They said their goodbyes and went of to bed feeling loved and in bliss. Both dreaming on the other, with the other. That is however, until a siren of war sounded though the air, letting all know that enemy troops are on the horizon.